


shivers.

by towards



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 22:09:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13936437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towards/pseuds/towards
Summary: However, the facts were these - Nero was hurt. He was not capable of producing his own body heat, and had Sephiroth wanted him dead he was certain that he would have been dealt with the second they had crossed paths. Instead, the past several weeks had been spent travelling. With each passing day Nero’s condition had worsened, until he was simply unable to continue on. Being exposed to that much pure mako had taken it’s toll on him and it was only by virtue of DeepGround’s brutal life lessons that he had gone on as long as he had.





	shivers.

**Author's Note:**

> Uploading old drabbles as I find them on my hard drive.

Why Sephiroth had chosen to keep him around, he couldn’t understand. Perhaps it was useful having something at least loosely connected to the planet around. Perhaps he had simply tired of his own company. All Nero knew was that as the days went on, they had become accustomed to each other. Quietly getting used to their quirks, learning to deal with the absence of a presence and difference that had defined so much of their lives.

Nero sleeps with his arms locked tightly around himself and flinches at the slightest touch - if he sleeps, that is. A lifetime of living in DeepGround had trained him that it was a luxury, not a right, to rest. Oftentimes he lies awake at night, staring dead ahead and listening for the sounds of the Resictor’s heavy iron footsteps even if they’re all long gone. The only person, the only one in the world that he has ever been comfortable resting near had always been Weiss. Try as he might, he could not broaden his horizons. Sephiroth’s footsteps are just as imposing as those of the men that had imprisoned them and he is far, far stronger than any of them could ever hope to be.

However, the facts were these - Nero was hurt. He was not capable of producing his own body heat, and had Sephiroth wanted him dead he was certain that he would have been dealt with the second they had crossed paths. Instead, the past several weeks had been spent travelling. With each passing day Nero’s condition had worsened, until he was simply unable to continue on. Being exposed to that much pure mako had taken it’s toll on him and it was only by virtue of DeepGround’s brutal life lessons that he had gone on as long as he had.

He feels a hand touch his face and snarls.

“Stop,” Sephiroth says, not unkindly. “Your temperature is low.”

“It has always been lower than the average,” Nero mumbles, but cannot think of further protest as that hand moves to touch his forehead. “It is due to my Darkness.”

“I would assume it has never been this low.”

“Perhaps not.”

Sephiroth sits and Nero wants to claw out his eyes for being so close. He feels.. unnatural. Not that the Sable is much better, but even as the Planet’s discarded waste, he knows that whatever Sephiroth is… whatever JENOVA was, it is not natural. He shuts his eyes, twists his head the other way on the pillow and curls his hands against his shoulder blades.

Sephiroth gets an extra blanket or two, spreading them over him -it does little good, but it helps stop some of the shivering. The room is just as cold as everywhere else. Icicle Inn was their last lead on the location of Genesis and Weiss, yet it had proved to be yet another dead end. The hotels had been unapproachable - a Tsviet and a monster, standing among the populace, would have gathered far too much attention.

The monster settles down next to him. Close enough to share the heat of the blankets, far enough away to respect Nero’s space. It doesn’t help. Nero curls in on himself, weak wisps of Oblivion rising and falling in his irritation. It does not matter that they have been travelling together for months now, it does not matter that Sephiroth has proven to have… some vested interest in his continued survival. All that seems to matter is that Sephiroth finds Genesis and…

And what?

Nero shudders violently. His body really isn’t producing any heat. It would not surprise him if that purity left in his system would kill him, tearing his darkness apart from the inside out. He has been beyond shivers for a while, merely enduring chattering teeth and quietly wishing for rest.

“Nero.” Sephiroth asks a question with a single sentence. It’s uncomfortable for them both.

But faced with either death or discomfort… he chooses discomfort. He crawls forehead with what strength he has left, feels Sephiroth’s arms rest around him loosely, giving him a chance to escape.

It isn’t quite as bad as he expected. The man radiates heat, it feels like heaven against his cold skin.

“My brother and I,” he says before he can stop himself, exhaustion plain on his face, “would sleep like this.”

That’s the last thing he can think of as he falls asleep. He thinks he feels fingers threading through his hair, gently untangling the knots and tracing over long-faded scars.


End file.
